“Why did you jump the line?” Chas asked, seizing the statement.
Vance sighed again and shook his head. “I’d rather not…”
“Please,” Chas interrupted. “It might be helpful.”
“I had to pee,” Lyle broke in, blushing.
“Excuse me?”
“We had lunch at the little café, and they were giving out big glasses of cider for free. I had brought a flask of rum with me on the trip – to take the edge off, ya know – and I got several glasses of cider and added a little nip of rum, so when I was standing in line for the maze, which I thought was a stupid idea anyway, I had to pee real bad. I figured once I got into the maze, I could walk off of the trail and have enough privacy to relieve myself,” he explained, not looking at Chas.
“How far did you get through the maze before you did that?”
“About halfway, that’s why I only had six monster stamps on my card. After the sixth stop, I knew that I couldn’t hold it anymore, so I headed into the corn, got lost for a little bit, and just headed for where I thought the end of it might be.”
Chas nodded. The six stamps had been part of the evidence that had Steinwell thinking that Lyle Vance was the killer. “How did you determine where you thought the end might be?”
“There was a “Punkin Chunkin” thing, ya know, one of those catapult things where they toss a pumpkin for a long ways. It was tall, and even when I started the maze, I could see it sticking up over the corn, so I figured maybe it was near the end of the maze and I started walking toward it. Turned out I was right,” Lyle finished.
“What did you see when you came out of the maze?”
“Your guy, Spencer, was standing there, eating a caramel apple that he won for getting all the stamps.”
“He was alone?” Chas asked.
“Yup. So I went over and stood with him. We talked about the Marine Corps for a bit. He’s pretty close-mouthed about it – doesn’t want to relive the memories and I don’t blame him – but he seems like a great guy. He finished his apple and shortly after that, Chelsea came out of the maze all excited and happy – it was beautiful. She went over and got her apple, then joined us to wait for the others.”
“Did you see anyone acting differently, or in a way that seemed odd?”
Lyle shook his head. “Not that I could tell. Everybody seemed to come out laughing, and ready to collect their prize. Don’t you think that this could just be one of those weird, random “wrong place, wrong time,” things?”
“It’s possible,” Chas nodded, then drained his coffee cup. He stood and stuck out his hand for Lyle to shake. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” he said.
“Anytime, man,” Vance replied, standing as well. “It’s not like anyone else around here wants to talk to old Lyle.”
Chapter 13
Kel and Echo were seated at their typical “morning gossip” table, when Missy breezed in with a covered tray.
“Good morning, besties,” she grinned. “I’ve been experimenting with recipes again, and you two are my guinea pigs today.”
“A more willing victim you’ll never find, madam,” Kel replied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Coffee is already brewing,” Echo announced.
“Perfect,” said Missy, setting down the tray in the center of the table. She uncovered six luscious looking cupcakes, and Echo and Kel leaned in for a closer look.
“Oooooh…what did you do?” Echo breathed, her mouth watering.
“More importantly, which ones are mine?” Kel cut to the chase.
“Hold your horses, young man,” Missy chastised him with a chuckle.
“Did you hear that? She called me young,” he pointed out to Echo.
“I’ve been inspired by all of the yummy fall things that I’ve seen coming out in the shops, so I created a pumpkin filled cupcake with whipped cream frosting and caramel drizzle. Echo, yours are a vegan version, that Spencer assures me are just as good as the original, and they’re the ones with a piece of candy corn stuck in the top,” she picked up one of the cakes and handed it to her friend.
“Oh my goodness,” Echo said, using her hand to cover her cupcake-filled mouth. “This is amazing, Missy! You’ve outdone yourself this time, girlfriend,” she proclaimed, taking another huge bite.
“Quite obviously, all others are fair game,” Kel remarked, reaching for his two cupcakes.
Missy poured them each some coffee, took a cupcake for herself, and sat down to catch up.
“So Kel, did you find anything out about whether or not someone might have reason to try to destroy the reputation of Mitchell Farms? Chas talked to the main person of interest in Carlson’s murder, and doesn’t necessarily think that he’s guilty.”
The artist actually put down his cupcake and sighed, which usually signaled extraordinarily bad news. “Well, as it turns out, the Mitchells apparently don’t have anyone who wishes them ill on a business level. They’re the only ones in the area who are doing this sort of thing, and other farmers have the attitude that they’re welcome to it,” he explained.
“So that means that the murder probably wasn’t motivated by someone wanting to ruin their business…which means that Carlson’s murder was probably personal…which means that someone who is a part of the wedding probably did do it,” Missy summed up, looking glum.
“Oh, dearest…it’s worse than that, I’m afraid,” Kel shook his head, staring into his coffee cup, morose.
“How can it be worse than that?” Echo asked, baffled.
“It seems that young Savannah Mitchell once upon a time dated a rather handsome young Marine, and things did not end well.”
“Spencer??” Echo and Missy exclaimed as one.
“Indeed,” Kel sighed again. “They were sweethearts before he left for Afghanistan, and word has it that he planned to propose upon his return. The ring had been ordered from a local jeweler, and was waiting for him to pick it up when he came home. Wanting to surprise his beloved, he didn’t share the date of his return with her, and when he used his key to let himself into her little apartment, he found her in the arms of another,” the artist explained, his voice more somber than they’d ever heard it.
“Oh, poor Spence, that’s awful,” Missy said, looking sad.
“And that’s not the whole of it,” Spencer frowned. “The lad was willing to forgive her indiscretion, but she then informed him that she had no choice but to marry the other fellow, as she was in a “delicate condition.”
Missy gasped, wide-eyed.
“A baby,” Echo said, shaking her head, pitying the trusting young man who had gone off to war and returned home to a life in shambles.
“A baby indeed,” Kel confirmed.
“So, what does that have to do with the murder?” Echo asked, popping the rest of her cupcake in her mouth.
Kel and Missy both looked at her.
“Honey, if there was a relationship that went bad, Spencer might be someone who would have an interest in ruining the Mitchell’s business,” Missy explained, watching her friend’s eyes widen as the implications dawned on her. “Add to that, the fact that he’d had a run-in with Carlson on the bus, and it makes things look really bad for him.”
“But he would never…” Echo began.
“Yes, we all know that, but what Kel just told us sounds very incriminating, so if we want to save our Marine from going to jail, we’re going to have to figure out who the heck did this,” Missy said, her voice filled with determination.
“Kel, can you find out when Spencer last spoke with his ex?” she asked.
“I’ll certainly try,” the artist nodded.
“Good. Also, see if you can find out how her family felt about the whole fiasco and how they feel toward Spencer now,” she directed. “And if we can get a feel for what happened in his life after they broke up, that would be helpful.”
“I’m on it,” he agreed.
“In the meantime, I’ll have to talk to Spe
ncer and hear his side of things before the police put two and two together. I’m not terribly worried about Steinwell, but I’m sure Chas is probably already exploring the “business ruining” motive,” she sighed. “The killer has to be Lyle Vance – it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Chapter 14
Missy and Chas finally got to sit down to a quiet dinner together and had vowed not to talk about the inn, the murder case, or anything else that involved unpleasant topics. She’d pulled out all the stops and made a spectacular crab alfredo pasta with Caesar salad and garlic bread, opened a bottle of wine to breathe, and lit candles on the small table in the sun porch that overlooked the ocean. The windows were open just enough to allow the scent and sound of the water to provide the perfect, romantic atmosphere, and Missy was thrilled to finally be able to have some quiet time with her mate.
“Mmm…” Chas said, sipping his wine. “I’m truly the luckiest man alive.” He reached across the table for his wife’s hand.
“I’m the lucky one,” Missy replied, loving him so much that she could hardly stand it.
“It’s nice to be able to stop and catch our breath for a bit,” he remarked, twining the delicious pasta around his fork.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
They talked about her new creations at the tea room, an art exhibit that Kel had invited them to, and how much fun Missy had been having playing fetch with the dogs in the surf. Little Bitsy, the Malti-Poo usually preferred to stay on the sand, but Toffee absolutely loved plunging into the ocean and swimming after her ball. As though conjured by the conversation, the sweet and gently Golden Retriever padded into the room looking distraught, glancing back over her shoulder at the door and whining.
“What’s wrong, Sweetie-Pie?” Missy said, mildly alarmed by the dog’s behavior. Toffee headed for the front door, looking back over her shoulder constantly to make certain that Missy followed. Once there, she whined and pawed at the door, her signal that she needed to go out.
“Do you need to go out?” Missy asked, puzzled. She had just taken the dogs out before fixing dinner, and they normally wouldn’t have needed to go out again until just before bedtime. Toffee thumped her heavy plume of a tail against the door and whined again.
“Okay, girlie,” Missy said, reaching for the leash that was hanging by the door.
She was surprised that Bitsy didn’t come skittering into the foyer when she heard the rattle of the leash, but figured that maybe the tiny dog was just all tuckered out and already curled up in her bed. Toffee seemed to be getting increasingly agitated, so Missy hurriedly clipped on the leash and practically ran down the stairs and out the front door with the obviously stressed animal.
As soon as the now-shaking dog reached the small patch of grass beside the inn, she began to tremble uncontrollably, vomiting again and again. When the throes of her sickness seemed to have passed, the dog took a few shaky steps, then collapsed on the grass, still trembling and panting hard, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth.
Thankful that she had grabbed her cell phone on the way out, Missy knelt beside the stricken animal, murmuring soothing words through her tears and stroking Toffee’s head with one hand, while dialing Chas with the other.
**
Dr. Benson, the veterinarian examined the clearly suffering dog carefully.
“It doesn’t appear to be neurological in nature, which means she probably ate something that she shouldn’t have, whether it was a household cleanser, or rotted food, there’s something in her system that shouldn’t be. She’s obviously going to be dehydrated, but I really think the best course of action, since this came on suddenly, is to go ahead and pump her stomach to try to get rid of any remnants of what she may have ingested. I’m doing blood tests to help give us an idea of what we’re working with, but she’s a young, strong dog, so I think we should get aggressive in our treatment protocol,” he advised, petting the miserable animal while he spoke.
“She’s not going to…” Missy couldn’t finish her sentence, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“It’s hard to give you a prognosis at this point, but I’d like to get started treating her immediately with your permission. We’ll pump her stomach, get her set up with and IV, and keep her monitored throughout the night. Chances are that if she can hang in there through the night, she’ll be on the road to recovery,” he said gently, but with an underlying tone of urgency.
“Okay, do everything you can,” Missy nodded, her voice thick with tears. She bent down to look into the chocolate eyes of her best friend and constant companion, stroking her face softly.
“Please stay strong, girlie,” she said, her tears falling onto the soft golden fur the way that they had many times before when her strong, silent companion had burrowed against her while she cried. “I love you, sweetie. Be strong,” she whispered, then stood to go.
She glanced back over her shoulder to look one last time as the doctor stood over her beloved Toffee, then dissolved into tears, clinging to her husband as he led her slowly from the clinic.
Chapter 15
Exhausted and consumed with worry, Missy literally cried herself to sleep in Chas’s arms, with Bitsy clutched to her chest. It seemed as though she had just dropped off to sleep, but it was well after one a.m. when there was a loud knocking at the door between the owner’s wing and the rest of the inn.
“Stay here,” Chas whispered to his sleepy wife, glancing at the bedside clock. “I’ll take care of whatever it is.” She was sound asleep before he had even pulled on his jeans.
“What’s going on?” he asked, on full alert when he saw a grim-faced Spencer on the other side of the door.
“There’s been an incident, sir,” the young man reported, heading into the main part of the inn, with the detective right behind him.
“What sort of incident? Bring me up to speed,” Chas replied.
“Mrs. Covington claims that Mr. Vance assaulted her. I went to his room to check out her story, and he isn’t answering the door. She’s hysterical, so now everyone in the inn is up and wondering what the heck is going on. It’s chaos, sir,” Spencer reported honestly.
“I have no doubt,” the detective sighed. “Go get the Master Keys from Maggie, then rejoin me. Where is Mrs. Covington?”
“In the Pewter Parlor. Maggie is trying to calm her down.”
When Chas reached the Pewter Parlor, Maggie was bearing up admirably well for someone who had been railed at and ranted to for the last several minutes, but her relief was visible when the detective took charge.
Kendra Covington was huddled in a blanket on a sateen upholstered chaise, with Maggie hovering over her offering tea, brandy and anything else that she could think of that might calm the harpy down. Detective Chas Beckett came in and pulled up an ottoman, sitting on it and dismissing Maggie with a thank you. Spencer quietly got the Master keys from her before she left, and slipped them in his pocket, taking an unobtrusive position in the corner of the room to back Chas up if necessary.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked the woman who seemed more angry than traumatized.
“Yes, I can tell you what happened,” she snapped rudely. “But I have no intention of doing so. I’m going to sue you and this godforsaken inn for all you’re worth and I want a policeman here immediately so that I can report a crime,” she snarled, throwing threats far and wide.
Chas stood, reached into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled out his badge. “You’ve got a policeman and I’m all ears. Let’s start at the beginning,” he said, slipping the badge back into his pocket.”
“Oh no you don’t, mister. I wasn’t born yesterday and I’m not falling for that nonsense. You get that badge back out right now. I’m not saying a word to you until I’ve verified who you are,” she demanded.
Making a supreme effort not to sigh, the detective pulled the badge back out and held it out to her, while the vile woman took out her phone and snapped a photo of it.
“Now
you just hold on,” she commanded. Chas’s patience was wearing thin, and he went to the corner where Spencer was standing, keeping an eye on the unstable woman.
“Did you get the keys?” he asked, in a voice low enough that Kendra wouldn’t hear.
“Yes, sir,” Spencer nodded.
Chas leaned in and gave the young man instructions.
“Aye, sir,” he nodded once and slipped from the room. Moments later, Maggie returned, handing Chas a notebook and pen, and took Spencer’s former spot in the corner. Chas nodded at her and went back to his spot on the ottoman.
“Hello, is this the Calgon Police Department?” Kendra Covington demanded. “Yes, I need to verify a badge number. No, I most certainly will not hold. I’m sitting with someone who is contending that he is a police officer, and I need to know the truth immediately. Let me speak to your supervisor. Yeah, that’s what I thought. You could have saved us both some time and trouble in the first place by just doing your job.” She read the badge number off to the unfortunate desk sergeant who had picked up the phone.
“Seriously?? You couldn’t get it right the first time around? Now I have to repeat myself?” Kendra continued to berate the sergeant, then finally condescended to re-read the badge number.
“Oh,” her bravado faltered momentarily when the badge was verified as belonging to Chas. “Give me a description of him so that I know that it’s actually him, then,” she ordered, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “A what? Fine, but you stay on this line, don’t you dare put me on hold,” she ordered.
Turning to Chas, she said, “The idiot on the phone assures me that you have a coded response that you can give so that they can verify that it’s truly you,” Kendra challenged smugly. “If you don’t know that code, you’re going to be arrested for impersonating an officer.”
With herculean effort, the detective refrained from rolling his eyes, and gave out the eight digit cross-verification code, enjoying the look of annoyance on Kendra’s face when she realized that she hadn’t nabbed a police impersonator. Without bothering to say another word to the sergeant whose time she had wasted, she hung up and stared at Chas.
Apple Cider Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 18 (Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 4